Cross Purposes
by Kittystitch
Summary: When a mission to Spain gets dicey, a fragile trust is damaged.
1. Chapter 1

**Cross Purposes**

Garrison had found three of his men back in their quarters following an afternoon on the firing range, evidently getting ready for an evening out. He had to admit that showered and dressed in their best, Goniff and Casino cleaned up nicely. Actor, even in fatigues after a hot, muddy day on the obstacle course, always managed to look ready for a soiree, but this evening he was the personification of elegance in a dark blue three-piece suit tailored perfectly to his tall frame, with matching tie and handkerchief. All three were predictably unhappy to see him, but after some grousing about having their plans ruined, they'd told him he could find Chief still out on the range.

Now, as he stood quietly in the shadows of the armory doorway, his arms folded across his chest against the early evening chill, Garrison watched the pair out at the firing line. Master Sergeant Doubek was career army, a solid little fireplug of a man a half a head shorter than Chief, who'd recently transferred into their unit to head up the mess staff. When his file had come across Garrison's desk, he'd given it a cursory review. Doubek was a veteran of The Great War who'd been on the verge of retirement when this war had broken out, and he'd re-upped. Garrison didn't recall seeing anything in the Sergeant's file about weapons expertise, but he had to admit that he hadn't given it that close an inspection, since he wasn't terribly concerned with mess hall administration.

The cool breeze carried their words away from him, but he could see that Doubek was explaining the rifle that Chief held between them. It had one of the new spotting scopes attached, and Doubek was going through a series of adjustments, animatedly pointing out various features, and gesturing toward the target a good one hundred yards downrange. Chief listened intently, nodding now and then, and when he asked a question, the Sergeant would give him a detailed explanation.

From the moment his team had arrived at this base, there had been an uneasy relationship between them and the regular Army staff. He'd had to break up numerous altercations that had been provoked by animosity and distrust on both sides. But their training and mission schedules left Garrison little time to deal with the problem, aside from the occasional reprimand about respect for the uniform. He'd hoped experience and familiarity would eventually take care of it. Maybe he was finally seeing that happening here.

When the two stepped up to the firing line, and Doubek began instructing Chief on his stance, Garrison hated to interfere. But they had a mission to tackle.

Doubek looked up and saluted as he approached.

Garrison returned the salute. "At ease, Master Sergeant."

"I'm sorry, sir. I should have asked permission first..."

"It's alright. I'll take it from here."

"Yes, sir." The Sergeant snapped another salute, nodded to Chief, then turned and headed back toward the armory.

Chief watched the man's retreating back. "He ain't in any trouble, is he?"

"No. But he's right. He should have gotten permission first."

"It's my doin'. I overheard him talkin' about the new scope, and I asked him to show me."

Garrison took the rifle from Chief and sighted it on the target downrange. All the bullet holes were clustered around the bullseye. "Nice shooting. Yours or his?"

"Both."

Garrison wrapped the rifle's sling around his arm and wrist and snugged the stock against his shoulder. Cocking a round into the chamber, he sighted again on the target, took a breath, released it, and gently squeezed the trigger. His shot left a hole slightly below and to the right of the existing cluster. Maybe he needed to make more time for practice.

"Not bad," Chief smiled.

Garrison frowned at his scout as he lowered the rifle. Chief couldn't really see that far, could he? "After the shot you made taking out that truck tire, you're the last one I'd think needed sniper training."

"Next time I wanna make the shot before the truck goes in the river."

He smiled and handed the rifle back to Chief. "Let's hope there isn't a next time. Come on, the others are waiting in the map room. We have an assignment."

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Before Garrison had even gotten the door closed behind him, Casino started up. "So what's so important that we gotta miss a party?"

"Haven't you heard? There's a bigger party in full swing on the continent."

"Oh yeah. That."

As Chief slid into a chair at the table with the others, Garrison went to the map of western Europe hanging on the wall. He picked up the pointer and sketched an imaginary circle around a small patch of blue on the northern coast of Spain. "Who knows what this is?"

Goniff squinted through his cigarette smoke. "Mmm, looks kinda like a camel with 'is head cut off."

Casino chuckled. "And three humps."

It was hard not to laugh with them, but Garrison managed a straight face. "Yeah, well that three-humped headless camel is the reason you're missing the party tonight."

Actor leaned forward for a closer look. "That is the Duchy of Zabaletaña, is it not? I thought it was taken over by Franco's Nationalists after the Spanish civil war, and the family went into exile."

"It was, and they did. Duke Javier Pello Bidarte y Zabal and his immediate family have lived in London since '38, but he's been funneling a lot of his considerable fortune into the Basque resistance movement back home."

"So what's the problem?" Goniff yanked off his already loosened tie and threw it into the middle of the table. "He want us to steal his home back for him?"

"Not exactly." Garrison set the pointer down, lit a cigarette, and shook out the match, tossing it toward the ashtray. "Theoretically, Spain is neutral, but the Duke has gotten word that Franco's letting the Nazis use the manor house at Zabaletaña as a retreat for their officers."

"So we don't have to steal the whole estate, just the house. Gonna be a little tight fitting it onto a sub, don't ya think?"

"Not the house, Casino." Garrison picked up the thick, old book sitting on the table next to the pointer and opened it to the page he'd bookmarked. Setting it back on the table, he turned it so they could see the glossy full-page color artist's rendering of an elaborate gold, jewel-encrusted cross. "Just this."

Actor pulled the book toward him and whistled appreciatively. "The San Fermin Gurutzea. It is stunning."

Garrison knew he shouldn't be surprised, but he had to ask. "You speak Basque?"

"Not fluently." Actor ran his fingers over the picture as if he were caressing the real thing. "This is a legendary piece in the art world, supposedly crafted by monks in the early 13th Century in honor of St. Ferminus. It was rumored to be hidden somewhere in the Basque highlands, but no one has seen it for centuries."

"Now that's my kind of mission, Warden." Goniff flicked the ash from his cigarette. "A jewel heist."

As his men passed the book around, studying the picture, Garrison took his seat at the head of the table. "The Duke claims it's been in his family for generations. He was afraid to try and smuggle it out when he fled in '38, but now he's afraid the Nazis will get their hands on it, and it'll disappear forever into Hitler's collection."

Goniff studied the picture with as much relish as Actor had. "Is that a real ruby?"

"Purported to be one of the largest and most flawless ever found," Actor explained. "To say nothing of the countless diamonds, sapphires and emeralds."

Goniff was practically drooling. "Blimey, this thing's gotta be worth...a lot."

Casino leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Since when are we in the business of risking our necks to steal people's jewels back for them?"

"First of all," Garrison continued, "we owe it to the Duke. His family and followers play a major role in smuggling our people out of France, and they do it as much out of loyalty to him as for any idealogical or political reasons. This is an iconic cultural symbol for the Basque, and we desperately need them on our side." He smiled at his conman. "And as Actor so eruditely pointed out, it's an important piece of Medieval Christian art."

"You got a plan?" Chief drawled.

Garrison reached over to the sideboard to grab the roll of papers laying there, and unfurled them onto the table. Although they weren't true blueprints of the Zabaletaña manor house, they had been drawn by the Duke with just as much precision and attention to detail. Each sheet depicted one of the three floors and the cellar level. The ground floor drawing included the front courtyard, the sculptured gardens and outbuildings, and the surrounding walls. Garrison shuffled the papers until he found the one of the third floor and tapped on a small rectangular space at one end. "The cross is in a safe in this room. It isn't on the official blueprints of the house, and can only be entered by a doorway hidden behind the paneling in this adjoining room, a servant's quarters. "

"What kind of safe?" Casino wanted to know.

"The Duke wasn't sure. It's old. But would that really matter if you have the combination?"

Casino grinned. "Ah, c'mon, Warden. You're making this too easy."

"Don't get complacent. There are still a lot of obstacles before we get to the safe."

Actor relit his pipe and took a puff. "Do we know if the house is currently occupied?"

"We don't. We'll have to determine that once we're on the ground."

"And what about local support?" Actor picked up the book and turned back to the page with the picture. "Do we have a contact?"

"A distant cousin of the Duke's, a local shepherd."

"When do we leave?"

Chief asked the question, but Garrison looked around the table at each of them. "Monday night, by sub, into San Sebastián. You have two days."

"Two days?" Casino straightened out of his slouch. "Then why the hell are we missing that party tonight?"

"Study these plans and come up with ways to approach this. Between the four of you, you should be able to cover all the angles. I want at least two good plans by tomorrow morning."

"C'mon, Warden, we can do this kinda stuff in our sleep..."

Taking the book back from Actor and slamming it shut, Garrison rose and headed for the door. "Tomorrow morning, 07:00, back here. Two plans. Now's a good time to start."

He closed the door firmly behind him, then heard whatever Casino had thrown hit the other side.

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The thunk of his pack of cigarettes hitting the door hadn't been nearly loud enough to express Casino's frustration. And now he had to get up and go get them. He needed one bad. He lit it and shoved the pack back into his shirt pocket.

"Two plans, huh? Here, gimme those." Sliding the stack of drawings away from Actor and spinning them so he could see them, Casino quickly flipped through the pages. "Okay, plan number one. Create a diversion here at the front, sneak in through this kitchen door and up these back stairs, break into the hidden room, snatch the cross, split." He took a drag on the cigarette. "Plan number two. Get in through the secret tunnel, go up to the third floor, break in, snatch the cross, split."

"Secret tunnel?" Goniff raised an eyebrow and leaned over to look at the plans. "I don't see no secret tunnel."

"That's because it's secret, stupid. This place has gotta be as old as Methuselah. Those Medieval guys were always running from somebody, so there's gotta be a secret tunnel."

Goniff smirked at him. "And fairies are gonna build us a bridge of rainbows so we can escape."

"Yeah, fairies, whatever. The Warden wanted two plans, we got two plans. Now let's get to that party before they start without us."

"If I'm going to risk my life, I would like a little better plan than an imaginary tunnel and fairies." Actor slid the plans away from Casino, his brows knit together in concentration as he compared the different levels. "This looks like a stairway, but it doesn't seem to have a matching outlet on the second floor, and if these dimensions are accurate..."

Chief had pulled the drawing of the cellar level towards him and was studying it. "I don't see no outside door to the basement. That don't make no sense."

"Guys, c'mon..."

"Casino might be right. There appears to be unaccounted for space..."

"What? Really?" Casino had just been making stuff up, but if there really was a tunnel, that would make the whole operation a lot easier. He sat in the chair next to Actor and leaned in for a closer look.

Taking a small notebook and a pen from his jacket pocket, Actor started jotting notes. "I wonder how far this tree line is from the house. It might be a possible retreat..."

By the time they'd called down to the mess hall to have some coffee sent up, they'd identified several different ways to get to the third floor and two possible escape routes. Dinner had arrived with the coffee, and they ate as they continued to throw ideas back and forth. When Casino finally stopped to think about whatever it was he'd eaten, it was gone, and the coffee was cold. When he looked at his watch, he was surprised to find that it was well past 9 p.m. And they had the outlines for three different plans and several pages of questions for the Duke.

"I dunno..." Casino leaned back and lit another cigarette. "I still don't like the idea of relying on some sheep herder to get us outta there."

"That's something we will have to decide once we've made contact," Actor conceded. "But I think we have some very workable ideas here."

"Whaddya wanna bet the Warden already has a plan." Goniff stood and stretched out stiff back muscles. "He ain't the type to leave this kinda stuff up to somebody else. 'Specially not us."

Actor rolled up the manor house plans and put his notebook back in his pocket. "The Warden lacks first hand experience in art theft. Our plans would certainly have more potential for success."

Chief tossed his mangled paperclip into his empty coffee cup. "That second plan's the Warden's style. Quiet and slick."

"No way, babe." Maybe sometimes, Casino thought, but if Garrison thought some fiery chaos was the quickest way, he'd use it. "He'd go with that first plan. You can't beat a good, noisy diversion."

"Nah, you're the only one who likes to blow stuff up."

"Okay, smart guy, wanna make it interesting? Five quid says he's already decided on plan number 1." Casino pulled a wad of bills from his pants pocket and peeled off a £5 note.

The small smile crossed Chief's face. "Get ready to lose, pappy."

"I'm with Casino." Goniff threw a bill into the middle of the table. "The Warden does like his fireworks."

"You want a piece of this, Actor?"

"No, thank you. I think you're all wrong." Actor stood and headed for the door. "And 7 a.m. will come very early tomorrow."

Casino looked at his watch again and sighed. "Ah, hell. I guess there's no sense in going to that party now. They probably already finished all the champagne anyway."

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Chief folded his legs in front of him on the hard, hide-covered dirt floor and leaned his elbows on his knees as he wiped the last crust of coarse bread around the inside of his bowl, soaking up the greasy broth. He bit off a chunk and let the rich flavors linger on his tongue. When he offered the last scrap of crust to the dog lying beside him, the animal snatched it out of his hand and swallowed it whole. In these tough times, even the animals had learned to grab whatever they could, when they could. He scratched the dog between its shaggy ears and received a lick on the hand in return. But the dog was probably just licking off the last of the mutton grease.

They'd been staying in this stone one-room shepherd's cottage for several days while they adjusted their plans. It was built part way into a hillside and roofed with thatch. A couple of ewes occupied a fenced off area in the back. It was a snug but comfortable space for Señor Todor Bidarte, his wife and three dogs, but the addition of five more bodies was a tight fit.

Señora Bidarte stepped carefully over the dog, and leaned down to Chief with the steaming pot. "Mas?"

He returned her smile. "No. Gracias."

On his other side, Goniff sat forward, reaching out his bowl. "I'll take some more. I ain't eaten so good since that prison job in Norway."

"That's your third bowl," Casino admonished. "Ya wanna leave some for the cook?"

Goniff frowned. "But she offered..."

The Señora grinned and happily ladled more stew into Goniff's bowl.

For a man well past 60, Todor Bidarte easily lowered his tall, sinewy body into a seated position on the floor between Actor and Garrison, and set the oil lamp in the center of their little circle to illuminate the mansion plans spread out in front of them. Silver streaked his black hair, and his face was as creased and tanned as the sheep skins that covered the floor and walls. He was obviously a man who'd spent a lifetime in the sun with the livestock, and now he worked as a grounds keeper at the manor house. With one gnarled finger, he pointed to a spot on the plans. "This section of the wall cannot be seen from the house. It is hidden in underbrush and neglected by the guards. But the Germans are bringing in another squad tomorrow."

"And you said the General and his staff will be arriving on Sunday?"

"So it is said."

"Then tonight's our best shot." Garrison set his empty bowl next to him on the floor and leaned in to study the plans, although he must've already committed them to memory. "Let's go over it again. Casino?"

"But it's almost a full moon tonight."

"It's either the full moon or an extra two dozen Krauts. Take your pick."

"Yeah, okay, so maybe there'll be some cloud cover." Casino sighed and leaned in, too. "Me, Chief and Goniff break in through this back door. Goniff'll stand watch on the first floor while me and Chief head for the kitchen and up these back stairs to the third floor bedroom. Chief and I'll hack through the paneling, get into the hidden room, and Chief'll stand guard while I open the safe. Then we split the same way we got in."

Garrison tapped a spot in the center of the paper. "I'll be outside near this garden shed. Actor, you'll have the watch back at the outer wall." Garrison looked up a Bidarte. "How much of the staff should still be in the house tonight?"

The shepherd shrugged. "No one that I know of. Only the guards. The two outside and two more inside."

"Good. Any questions?"

Only a ewe bleated from her pen in the back.

"Then blacken your faces. It's almost midnight."


	2. Chapter 2

The Zabaletaña manor house rose above the surrounding forest and farmland on the crest of a hill, dominating the landscape. It made the mansion back in England look like an ugly pile of concrete. Chief figured it must be some kind of Medieval architecture, with tall pointed turrets guarding all four corners. Fancy carved stone work surrounded the windows, doors and the tops of the turrets, and colorful stained glass glinted in the moonlight.

Garrison had said the stone perimeter wall surrounded about ten acres of lawns, gardens and orchards, but Chief would have guessed more. The wall was two feet thick and eight feet high at the point they'd chosen to climb it. At least the Krauts hadn't strung barbed wire along the top yet. Climbing over it using the rough stone for foot and hand holds wasn't as challenging as what they routinely tackled on their obstacle courses, but Goniff offered each of them a boost up, then scrambled over last, agile as a monkey.

They left Actor at the wall, and Garrison led them as far as the storage shed at the edge of the rose garden, taking up his position there. Chief followed the shadowy figures of Casino and Goniff along the maze of paths through the rose garden to the covered stone portico at the back of the house. Even the servants' entrance was adorned with marble columns and a massive, ornately carved oak door.

Casino gave a frustrated huff at the sight of the heavy iron lock that secured a thick wooden bolt in place. "Shoulda just brought a blow torch," he groused, but he pulled his lock picks from his hip pocket and set to work. After a few false starts and muttered curses, the latch clicked, and Casino pulled the bolt free. The door creaked open on big iron hinges, and they slipped into the dark back hallway, pausing to make sure the noise hadn't attracted unwanted attention.

The ancient manor breathed silently, with the odor of centuries of dust and history. Old, dry wood. Musty cobwebbed corners. Smoke and grease from long-ago meals. Candle wax and lye soap. This was the working part of the house, where servants sweated in service to their masters. The fancy meals, starched linens and polished silver went upstairs to the nobility, leaving the ugly and unwanted here in the shadows.

After several minutes, while his eyes adjusted to the dark, Chief hadn't heard a hint of movement, except for the mouse that scurried behind a cupboard. The guards probably avoided this part of the house the same way its masters did. He and Casino left Goniff near the back door and staying close to the wall, headed down the hallway toward what the plans had identified as the kitchen.

Unlocked double doors on the right opened into a space built for fixing fancy meals for crowds of people. The yeasty smell of fresh bread clung to the still air. In the dimness Chief could make out two big iron cook stoves, and at least a dozen cabinets lining the walls, full of drawers and glass-fronted shelves storing fine china. In the very center of the room, a marble-topped counter held pots and pans waiting to cook tomorrow's breakfast.

As Chief eased the hall door closed behind him, Casino zeroed in on the inconspicuous door in the far right corner. On the plans, it opened onto the stairway that led up to the third floor servants' quarters, but the real thing looked more like a closet just barely big enough to hold mops and brooms.

A soft sound grabbed Chief's attention. Not the scratch of small claws on old wood. Not Casino moving toward the stairway. More like soft footfalls and the swish of fabric, and it came from the hallway behind him. He snapped out his knife and silently opened the blade against the palm of his hand, pressing himself to the wall next to the door as it pushed open a crack.

A child, clad only in a filmy nightgown, squeezed through and eased the door closed behind her. When she turned, she froze at the sight of Casino still standing in the middle of the room. Before she could utter a sound, Chief reacted, grabbing her from behind and clamping his free hand over her mouth. Her startled gasp turned into a sharp squeak. As he clutched her small body against him, he only had a brief second to catch Casino's eye roll before they heard the voice from farther down the hall.

"Hallo? Ist jemand da?"

The girl squirmed against him, trying to slither from his grasp, and he tightened his grip. Casino nodded toward the small stairway door, and Chief followed him, dragging the struggling kid with him. The three of them squeezed into the cramped space, and Casino pulled the door shut, careful to do it gently. Dim light from somewhere up the stairs kept the stairwell from being totally black, but they dared not risk another move. Chief stood on the bottom step, leaning against the wall, the little girl hugged so tightly against him he thought he'd crush her. Facing him, Casino pressed against the opposite wall, staring at the floor, holding his breath.

The kitchen's hallway door opened, and two sets of hard-soled boots stepped cautiously into the room. The kitchen light clicked on, and it shown through the crack under their hideaway door.

The girl tried to wiggle free. Desperate, Chief pressed the lethal edge of his blade against her throat. She went still, pushing back against him, shrinking away from the knife. He hated terrifying her, but he had no choice.

"Ist irgendjemand in hier?" one of the guards called.

Chief pushed the knife harder against the kid's throat to emphasize his threat.

"Ich habe es dir gesagt, Cort. Es war nur eine Maus." The second guy sounded impatient and just a little drunk.

One set of boots moved farther into the room and their owner started pulling open cabinet doors. "Vielleicht ist noch etwas Kuchen übrig."

The second guy was getting edgy. "Sie werden uns in Schwierigkeiten bringen. Lass uns gehen."

Giving in to his companion, the curious one slammed the cabinet closed with a resigned grunt, and they both headed back to the hallway, flicking off the light and closing the doors as they left. Their voices and footsteps disappeared back up the hall.

Chief took a minute to breathe again and wait for the guards to get well out of ear shot. Casino punched him on the shoulder and jerked his head toward the steps leading up.

Was he out of his mind? There was no way they were going to grab the cross and get out of this place undetected, dragging a half-naked, squirming kid with them. Chief scowled and jerked his head in the other direction, toward the kitchen.

As if to assert his point, the girl lashed out with a swift kick that solidly connected with Casino's left kneecap. He stifled a grunt. She'd have done real damage if she hadn't been barefoot.

With a sigh and a last roll of his eyes, Casino gave in and reached for the door, easing it open. Out in the kitchen, he started pulling open drawers until he found what he was looking for - a stack of linen napkins. He shook one out and used it to tie the girl's hands in front of her. Then, as she stared at him with wide eyes, he quickly replaced Chief's hand over her mouth with another napkin, knotting it behind her head.

Casino cracked opened the hallway door and checked to make sure they were still alone as Chief lifted the child over his shoulder. She was a skinny little thing - couldn't weight more than 30 pounds - but she was an awkward load as he rushed to follow Casino toward the back door.

When they reached the end of the hall, Goniff ducked out from behind a cabinet and came up short at the sight of them. "Hey, that ain't a cross."

Casino pulled open the heavy oak door and gave Goniff a hard shove through it. They dodged back between the rose bushes, trying to avoid the thorns, the girl clutching the back of Chief's shirt with her bound hands. As they reached the garden shed, Garrison appeared like a ghost from the shadows. Chief set the girl on her feet in front of him.

Even in the dim moonlight, the Warden's expression gave away his displeasure. "Guys..."

"Well, we couldn't just leave her back there to scream her head off, could we? Not unless I let Geronimo here slit her throat."

"I ain't gonna..."

Garrison cut him off. "Not now. We gotta move."

This time Casino picked up the girl and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Okay, kiddo. Hold on tight."

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Her name was Layla, and the shepherd said she was the 10 year old daughter of the cook at the manor house. Señora Bidarte had given her some warm clothes and a good meal, and now she sat leaning against the sheep pen with Goniff, away from their group sitting on the floor in the middle of the cottage. She was absorbed in his card tricks, apparently none the worse for wear after her kidnapping ordeal. Maybe it was because she knew the Bidartes, or maybe it was just Goniff. Chief was intrigued at how kids naturally took to the little thief. He was good at entertaining them, but he also had a kind of child-like quality of his own. When he had to, he was just as capable of mowing down a squad of Krauts as the rest of them. But he was also the first to admit to the fear, to try to wiggle out of a mission, or to crack a joke to break the tension. It all seemed to be one big, dangerous game to Goniff, like just another jewel heist with higher stakes.

Chief felt the kid watching him. Every once in a while he'd look up and catch her dark, wary eyes staring at him. If she had a knife, she'd probably gut him like a dead trout.

Sitting opposite Chief, with the manor house floor plans spread between them on the floor, Garrison crushed out his cigarette in the empty tin can he was using as an ashtray. "We can't risk letting her go until we have the cross."

"I do not believe she will be missed for a while," Todor told them. "Her mother is more than just a cook for the Germans, if you know what I mean. She pays little heed to the child."

Garrison called their attention back to the task at hand. "Okay, guys, listen up. Goniff, get over here."

Goniff scooted over to join the discussion. The girl followed him, and stretched out on her stomach between Goniff and Actor, studying the plans as seriously as the Warden.

"This sets us back a couple of days, but that's all," Garrison continued. "At least twenty more guards arrive tomorrow, so we'll have to do some careful reconnaissance to get a handle on their routine and adjust our timing. Todor, anything you can find out about the guards inside the house would be a big help.

Casino, tomorrow you and Goniff take a position here, near the front." He tapped a section of the plan. "Actor, you and Chief do the same on this rise behind the house. If the guards set up a perimeter patrol, I want it timed to the second. You know what to look for."

The kid looked up at Garrison questioningly. "What is this?"

Garrison's head snapped up at the sound of her voice. "You speak English?"

"Un poco." She gave him a knowing little smile. "The soldiers teach me."

"Her mother also worked for the British and Americans who came to fight Franco," Todor explained.

"It's a drawing of the manor house," Garrison told her. Turning the top sheet of paper so Layla could see it right side up, he traced the penciled lines with a finger tip. "This is the back door you came through tonight, and this is the kitchen. La cocina."

"You speak Spanish?" Todor sounded surprised.

"Un poco," Garrison admitted. "Actor's the real linguist."

"You want to go in the house?" Layla asked. "So the soldiers don't see?"

"Yeah, that would be the plan," Garrison sighed and turned back to the drawings, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "After we have a better idea of how the new guards will be deployed, we'll try again, using the same plan…"

Layla cut him off. "Why not you go in the…" She paused, trying to find the English words. "La cueva pirata," she finally huffed in frustration.

Garrison tilted his head, trying to work out the Spanish. "Cueva pirata?"

Then he and Actor translated simultaneously. "Pirate cave?"

Layla beamed with glee. "Si! Pirate cave!"

Casino backhanded Goniff on the shoulder. "Ha! What'd I tell ya. A secret tunnel."

"Where?" Garrison asked.

She slapped a small hand onto the plans, in an area where there was nothing but forest, just outside the west wall. "Aqui."

Chief could see the excitement beginning to glow in Garrison's eyes. "The cave leads into the house?"

"Si."

"Show me where."

Layla poked at another spot on the plans. "Aqui. The church room."

"Church room?"

"I believe she means a chapel," Actor suggested.

When Garrison looked up at Todor for confirmation, the shepherd only shrugged his ignorance.

"Can you take us there?" Garrison asked, the growing excitement evident in his voice.

The girl grinned. "Si por supuesto."

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Señora Bidarte complained that it was late, and the girl should be sleeping, but Layla was just as excited to show Garrison the cave as Garrison was to see it. Down the moonlit dirt road, and across a pasture dotted with sheep and hay stacks, she led them to the edge of the forest west of the manor house, and then through the dense woodland to where the ground started to rise to meet the stone perimeter wall about a hundred yards up hill. They followed her into a tangle of vines and undergrowth to a spot where she started pulling dead branches and uprooted bushes out of the way. Behind a high granite boulder, completely hidden from view, was an opening in the hillside about four feet wide and just tall enough for the kid to walk through standing upright. She grinned back at Garrison as she headed into the cave.

The Warden switched on his flashlight. "Looks like a tight fit. Actor, you stay out here and watch for trouble." Then he motioned to the rest of them and crouched to follow Layla into the darkness.

About fifty feet in, the tunnel narrowed where it had evidently caved in long ago. They had to slither on their stomachs across rocky, damp ground for another 20 feet before the passage opened into a larger space, tall enough for Chief to stand.

A match flared. Layla lit an oil lamp, setting it on a low table, and the whole room materialized.

As Goniff and Casino crawled out of the tunnel behind him, Chief took in the odd scene. He guessed it was about ten feet on each side, with walls and ceiling shored up by heavy oak beams. On the opposite side, another passageway, also supported by oak beams, lead off into the darkness. The rest of the space looked to be furnished with stuff lifted from the manor house. There was a thread-bare fancy rug covering most of the floor. Along with the small table, there was a wing chair with springs and stuffing sticking out, a bookcase, and a pile of faded quilts. A one-armed stuffed bear leaned sideways in the chair, looking like he'd just finished off a bottle of Scotch, and a few pieces of chipped china sat on the table.

"My secret house," Layla grinned. "I am a pirate here."

Casino straightened, looking around. "Quite a lair you got here, kiddo."

Goniff brushed the dirt from his hands and headed for the bookcase, picking up a candlestick to inspect. "So you live here, do ya?"

"I fight the Nazi here," she insisted.

"I bet you do," Casino conceded.

Garrison had headed straight for the opposite passage. "This leads into the chapel?"

"Si. There is a door in the floor."

"A trap door in the chapel floor?"

She nodded.

"Casino, you're with me. You two stay with the girl."

As Casino followed the Warden into the shadows of the passageway, Chief took up a position next to the tunnel they'd just crawled through, leaning against the rough oak beam. As far as he was concerned, 'stay with the girl' meant don't let her leave.

Picking up the stuffed bear, Goniff collapsed into the chair. As they waited quietly, the kid's guarded stare rarely left Chief. He stared right back, wondering what was going on behind those dark eyes.

After a while, Goniff got bored with just listening to water drip somewhere farther up the tunnel. "So you and Teddy here fight the Krauts? I bet you have them runnin' scared."

Puffing herself up to her full four and a half foot height, her black curls a tangled mess around her dirty face, Layla really did look like a pirate in the colorful, oversized clothes Señora Bidarte had dressed her in. "The Nazi, he runs in fear from me," she proclaimed.

Goniff chuckled, and she glowered at him. From beside the bookcase, she snatched up a length of tree branch that had been fashioned into a sword, with a smaller branch lashed to it as a hilt, and the business end whittled to a sharp point. She brandished it like she was fighting Errol Flynn. "I stab them and I kill them and I cut off their heads! Chop chop!" She slashed the branch downward twice to make her point.

"Careful with that thing," Goniff grinned. "You might hurt somebody."

Again she slashed her weapon back and forth and cautiously approached Chief. With the carved tip, she reached out and tapped his knife sheath. "I will fight you."

He pushed the stick away. "I don't think so."

"I will fight you," she insisted again, pressing the point against his chest. "And I will win."

Having sharp objects pointed at him wasn't one of his favorite things, no matter how crude they were. He pulled the stick from her grip. "Not with that you won't."

"Hey, take it easy, mate. She's just playing."

It may seem like a game to Goniff, but to the kid it was deadly serious. Chief realized it was fear he was seeing hidden behind those black eyes, and not just fear of him. She was a helpless kid alone in a world gone crazy. How long before someone discovered her secret hideaway? How long before some Nazi got bored with her mother and came looking for fresher meat? He'd been about her age when he'd first realized that his knife could kill more than just the next meal, do more than just defend him against imaginary dragons. It had been a chilling but powerful realization.

"I am not afraid of you," she spit, trying to grab her sword back.

Chief tossed it across the room, then released his blade into his hand. When he snapped it open, she took a step back, but the defiance didn't leave her eyes.

He twirled the blade and offered it to her handle first. "This'll do more damage."

She stared at the blade for a moment, then looked up at him, this time with confusion instead of fear.

"Go ahead. Take it."

Gripping the hilt firmly in her small hand, she flashed it around like she had the stick, then she pointed it at him.

Every instinct told him to rip it out of her hand. Instead, he gently took it from her and demonstrated closing and opening the blade. Then he handed it back to her. "Keep it. Use it when you have to."

Layla rewarded him with a bright smile and quickly folded the blade and slipped it into one of the deep pockets of her skirt.

Goniff had been watching cautiously, and finally spoke up. "I dunno, Chiefy, she's just a wee mite. What if you need it?"

"I got a backup."

They were interrupted by the sound of Garrison and Casino coming back down the passageway. Garrison emerged first, and paused briefly to take in the tension in the room. "Everything okay here?'

Goniff grinned at him. "Just peachy, Warden."

It didn't look like Garrison was convinced, but he dismissed it. "There's a trap door that opens into what used to be the chapel, just down the hall from the kitchen."

Chief pushed away from the wall. "So let's get this done."

Garrison shook his head. "It's almost daylight. There's too much activity around the kitchen now. We'll hit it tonight."


	3. Chapter 3

It had not been a day of rest, unless you could consider lying on your stomach in the underbrush, watching the back of the manor house through binoculars as restful. Every couple of hours, he and Actor would shift locations, to watch the service entrance and the approach road from a different angle. Throughout the day, Chief counted seven delivery trucks rumble down the tree-lined lane, bringing everything from food to furniture to additional soldiers. Late in the afternoon, guards started appearing at regular intervals, patrolling the outside of the perimeter wall, and he timed their circuit. Two guards set up a permanent checkpoint at the back gate.

At 9 p.m., they met the others back at the cottage and again smeared their faces with ashes from the wood stove. With the moon hanging in the sky like a New York street light, they headed back down the road, across the pasture and through the thick undergrowth to the cave entrance. This time Actor stayed by the pasture fence, concealed behind a hay stack, to guard their path into the woodland. Garrison went as far as the cave entrance and took up a position by the boulder. Then, with Casino and his flashlight in the lead, Chief crawled behind Goniff along the entry tunnel, passed through the kid's pirate lair, and jogged down the far passage to the ladder that led up to the trap door. It creaked softly as Casino pushed it open over his head and then again when he lowered it after Goniff and Chief climbed through.

A bare stone altar at the far end of the room was the only hint at its original purpose. Now it was crowded with art work and mismatched pieces of furniture. Paintings of various sizes in gaudy frames were leaning in stacks against every wall. Tables and shelves were cluttered with silver and gold vases, bowls, candelabras an other knickknacks. A suit of armor lay partially disassembled near the altar, and packing crates next to the hallway door waited to be loaded.

"Looks like they're packing up the good stuff to take back to Germany," Casino whispered.

Chief maneuvered through the maze of furniture and boxes to the hallway door. First listening, then easing the door open, he made sure they were alone. Then they slipped silently down the hall, back to the now-familiar kitchen. Goniff stayed just inside the kitchen door while Chief followed Casino up the two flights of narrow steps to the servants' quarters.

It was an attic space. The short hallway was low and cramped. Chief was prepared to find Layla's mother or some other servant occupying one of the rooms, but it looked as if no one had been up here in years. The door stood open to the tiny bedroom that concealed the cross's hiding place. He swiped away the cobwebs that hit him in the face as he entered. A thick layer of dust coated every surface, and the mattress on the tiny bed had been home to countless generations of rodents.

Starting in the far left corner and slowly making his way around the room, Casino lightly rapped his knuckles on the wall paneling. At the head of the bed, the sound turned from a light tap to a hollow thunk. Chief pulled his knife and shoving the bed out of the way, he worked the blade's point into a seam between panels. It pried away easily, pulling adjacent panels with it. In minutes they'd exposed the crude hidden door, and Casino shouldered it open effortlessly.

The space was no bigger than a closet. Right in the center sat an old black safe with several leather-bound ledgers stacked on top, looking as if someone had meant to put them away but never got around to it.

"Ah jeez," Casino groaned.

"Now what's the matter?" Chief didn't need anymore screw-ups.

"These old Victor boxes are a joke. I don't even need the combination." Casino knelt, and placing his ear against the door near the dial, began turning it slowly, listening to the tumblers.

"What're you doing? Just open the thing."

"That's no fun, babe. I can crack this sucker faster than I can dial the combination."

"Well make it quick, will ya?"

"Keep your pants on."

While Casino worked, Chief stood at the bedroom doorway and watched the stairs and listened to the sounds of the house. Old wood creaking. Mice scurrying behind the walls. A limb scratching against a window pane. But no sounds of anyone nearby.

"Got it," Casino whispered, pulling the safe's door open.

The cross sat on top of a pile of papers, gleaming in the darkness like it had an inner light of its own. It was smaller than Chief had imagined — only about six inches long, and delicate in spite of the large red stone at its center. Casino admired it briefly, then shoved it unceremoniously into his jacket pocket. He quickly grabbed up the rest of the safe's contents — the papers and a handful of jewelry — shoving them into another pocket. After closing the safe, he wiped down the dial with his jacket sleeve.

"No time for housekeepin'," Chief urged. "Let's split."

They moved quickly back down the narrow stairs and met up with Goniff in the kitchen. Single file, following Casino in the lead, Chief edged along the hallway and slipped into the chapel. Casino was already part way down the ladder when Chief glanced back. Goniff was no longer behind him.

"Where is he?" Casino hissed.

"How should I know?"

Goniff hadn't been that far behind them. They both hesitated, but they couldn't wait.

"Go," Chief whispered. "I'll find him."

"Be careful," Casino warned as he disappeared down the ladder.

Chief stepped back into the hallway and instantly knew it was a mistake. Goniff stood in the middle of the hall, his hands in the air, one of them clutching a shiny gold music box. A soldier held a rifle pointed at his back. Shit. He hadn't heard a thing. Where the hell did the damn Kraut come from?

Startled, the soldier swung the rifle towards Chief. The blade snapped into his hand, and he swung. It hit the soldier in the chest with a solid thunk. And the rifle went off.

He grabbed at the sudden sharp sting that ripped through his upper arm, lost his balance, and staggered against the wall. Before he could regain his footing, Goniff was beside him. "Chiefy, ya alright?"

He'd decide later if he was alright. Chief pushed away from the wall and shoved Goniff toward the chapel, so hard he stumbled. "Move!"

Goniff disappeared into the chapel and scrambled down into the darkness. By the time Chief got to the ladder, Goniff was out of sight down the tunnel. Chief followed, pulling the trap door closed over his head, like that was really going to keep them from being followed. He was probably leaving a trail of blood, and now there'd be a whole pack of Krauts on their tail.

The clumsy idiot had really done it this time. He'd nearly blown the mission and gotten them killed, all because he couldn't keep his hands off some sparkly piece of crap for his mother.

Chief headed for the bouncing beam of light that was Casino's flashlight farther down the tunnel, keeping a hand against the rough oak wall for guidance. When he got to the kid's lair, Casino was waiting for him. Goniff had already disappeared into the exit tunnel.

"Hey, you're bleedin'…"

He pushed past Casino and headed directly into the tunnel, dropping to the ground to pull himself through the narrow shaft. This game had finally gone too far. Stealing from the Nazi's was one thing, but risking the mission and the whole team was more than he was willing to put up with. It was going to end tonight.

His shoulder scraped along the rough rock, igniting a flare of pain that brought him up short.

Behind him, Casino whispered, "You okay?"

"I will be," he snarled and continued to pull himself along the muddy ground in spite of the growing burn in his arm.

Garrison was waiting alone at the mouth of the tunnel. As soon as Chief emerged, he took off at a run through the woods, the Warden and Casino right on his heels.

The careless little jerk was calmly waiting at the edge of the pasture with Actor, as if nothing had happened. Chief lunged at him, seizing him by the front of his muddy shirt, and back-handed him hard across the face, sending him falling back against the hay stack.

Goniff recovered fast, charging back at him, ramming a shoulder into his stomach, sending him tumbling backward into the dirt, Goniff on top of him. When Goniff pulled back, ready to strike, Actor caught him by the shirt collar and yanked him upward.

Blind anger overwhelmed coherent thought. Chief sprang to his feet and charged again at the now-restrained target of his rage.

"Chief, stop it!" The Warden grabbed him by his injured arm and he flinched at the sudden flash of pain.

Garrison noticed the blood, on Chief's shirt and on his own hand. "You're hit."

"Yeah, thanks to him…" Chief growled.

"Me?!" Goniff struggled against Actor's tight hold. "You never 'eard that Kraut comin' down the hall?"

"You just had to stop and steal somethin'…"

Distant shouting echoed across the pasture and spotlights flared through the woods. The whole area would be swarming with search parties any minute.

"How bad?" Garrison asked.

His breathing came in short gasps as his anger cooled. "I'll live."

"Then let's get out of here."

gg gg gg gg gg gg

The sun was a hot, bright spot just rising above the rooftops of San Sebastián when they finally got to the crumbling church near the waterfront that would be their refuge until the sub arrived. Garrison lingered briefly on the marble steps to catch his breath and check the area for trouble. The lack of sleep and their hasty retreat across the Spanish countryside were catching up to him, and the pounding behind his eyes was turning into a full blown anvil chorus. They'd stopped only once for Actor to bind the gash across Chief's bicep, and then the tension between Chief and Goniff had almost erupted into another fist fight. He'd finally separated them, sending Chief to scout ahead and Goniff to cover their rear. It hadn't helped the situation or his headache.

As much as he'd like to wait until he was comfortably back in his office, he knew he had to deal with it now, before it got out of hand. Crushing his cigarette beneath his boot, he pushed through the heavy door into the church and headed for the basement. Chief was standing guard on the top landing, knife in hand. When Chief didn't follow him down the steps, he turned on him. "Get down here. Now."

Now he had their attention. Actor and Casino looked up from the table where they were sorting through the jewelry Casino had taken from the safe. Goniff stepped away from the cupboard he'd been exploring, warily watching Chief as he approached.

"Alright. What happened?" Garrison demanded.

Silence.

"Chief?"

The Indian's eyes narrowed and a jaw muscle twitched. "He nearly blew the whole caper. We woulda gotten outta there clean if he hadn't stopped to swipe somethin'."

"I didn't do no such thing…" Goniff grabbed Chief's shirt front and shoved.

Chief shoved back. "Couldn't keep your hands to yourself…"

"Knock it off!" Garrison had to shout to be heard.

"I didn't stop," Goniff insisted. "I picked up that music box in the chapel, when we first got there. Where were your eagle ears when that Kraut jumped me, huh? Missed him, didn't ya?" He poked Chief hard on the chest.

Chief slapped his hand away. "You didn't hear him and he was right on top of you…"

"Enough!" He was tired and hungry, and the last thing he needed was two of his men trying to tear each other apart. He took a deep breath and rubbed at the pounding spot between his eyes. "Look, you know as well as I do that things can go sideways, even when nobody's to blame. But if either of you got sloppy…" He looked back and forth between them. "You damn well better make sure it doesn't happen again."

Then he turned to Casino and Actor. "And you two…"

"What'd I do?" Casino protested. "I'm the one that got the cross, remember?" He patted his right jacket pocket for good measure.

Garrison held out his hand and snapped his fingers.

"What, you don't trust me?"

"Of course I trust you." Garrison managed a smile. "I'd just feel better having it safely in my possession."

Casino shrugged, wrangled the cross out of his pocket, and handed it over.

"Too bad we can't keep it just for a little while," Actor mused. "For safe keeping, you know."

With a shake of his head, Garrison shoved the cross into his own pocket and headed up the stairs. "I'm going to hunt down the priest and radio the sub. Make sure those two don't kill each other."

"Don't worry, Warden," Casino grinned. "We'll keep the bloodshed to a minimum."

Garrison paused at the top of the stairs and looked back at his men. They were all watching him expectantly. "You're a team, remember? Act like it."

gg gg gg gg gg gg

He must've rolled over on his injured arm, and it woke him up again. Chief lay staring at the familiar pattern of cracks in the ceiling above his cot. They reminded him of the network of roads and rivers on one of the Warden's maps. Or the web of veins on the back of his grandfather's weathered hands. This time he knew he wasn't getting back to sleep, even though the sun was barely a soft glow around the blackout shades.

Sloppy. That had been the Warden's word for it. Things had started going too smoothly. The discovery of the tunnel had been a lucky break that took almost all of the risk out of the job, and the safe was right where they'd been told. Getting to it had been a snap, and Casino had even joked about how easy it was to crack open. Was that when he'd lost his focus, when he'd let his guard down? That Kraut had been so close, and he hadn't seen or heard a thing.

He rose silently, slipped quickly into his fatigues, and headed for the door. Goniff snorted softly as the door scraped open, but he didn't wake. Careful to avoid the squeaky floor boards, Chief crept along the hallway, down the stairs, and out the front door. He stayed out of sight at the top of the terrace as a couple of privates passed by, heading for the mess hall, then he trotted down the steps and headed for the armory. It was only a short walk past the barracks and motor pool, and he knew it wasn't guarded, aside from the sentries that stood at the checkpoints around the entire compound. They'd learned how to avoid those sentries almost immediately after they'd arrived here. With a lock pick he'd fashioned long ago from a paperclip, it took him only a minute to break in and find what he was looking for - the Springfield M1903 with the new spotting scope and a full belt of cartridge magazines.

By the time he got out to the firing range, the sun was high enough for him to see the fresh new targets downrange, all ready for the day's training sessions. Now that he was here, he no longer cared if anyone heard him. He just needed to shoot something.

He raised the deadly weapon to his shoulder, found the bullseye in the scope, and started firing, cocking round after round into the chamber, pulling the trigger as fast as the rifle would let him, stopping only to slam in a new magazine when the old one emptied, until the kickback was bruising his shoulder and his injured arm ached with the effort to hold up the barrel.

The dressing was too tight around his bicep. He set the rifle down long enough to pull up his sleeve and rip the bandage from the wound. The stitches were still raw and red, and droplets of blood seeped out where the binding had pulled away fresh scabs. He rolled his sleeve back down, picked up the rifle again, shoved in a fresh magazine, and continued firing, not really caring if the bullets hit center.

He could feel Garrison standing behind him. Even without looking, he knew the stance. Feet apart, arms folded across his chest, head slightly cocked. He emptied the magazine before lowering the weapon and turning to face his commander.

"Feel better?" Garrison asked.

Chief smiled at the ground. "Some."

"I could put a picture of Goniff on the target if it would help."

He looked the Warden directly in the eye. They both knew Goniff wasn't his target.

"If you're worried that you didn't hear the guard in the hallway…" Garrison took the rifle from him and clicked on the safety. "This is probably not the best solution."

He knew Garrison was right. It would be a while before his ears stopped ringing. But his wound hurt too much for him to take all the blame. "One day his little habit is gonna get one of us killed."

Garrison rested the rifle in the crook of his arm and looked down for a moment at the litter of spent shell casings at his feet. When he looked up, his eyes met Chief's. "Goniff wouldn't be here if I didn't trust him. And neither would you. But you need to trust that he'd never do anything to screw up a mission. And he needs to trust that you won't stab him in the back."

Chief sighed. "I got it. A team."

"Exactly." Garrison motioned to the empty cartridges on the ground. "Police your brass and get some breakfast. We have a briefing with Major Richards at 09:00."

The Warden turned to go, taking the rifle with him, but Chief called after him. "You know I wouldn't stab him in the back, right?"

Garrison turned and cocked a quizzical eyebrow.

Chief answered it with a smile. "I'd want him to see it comin'."

Garrison just rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Not funny. Now get moving. And don't be late for the briefing."

gg gg gg gg gg gg

The morning's briefing had been anything but brief. Major Richards had wanted to rehash every damn detail, even down to how many sheep the shepherd owned. After three hours, Chief saw Garrison's patience beginning to erode. But despite Richards' relentless questioning, Garrison never mentioned the screwup in the hallway outside the chapel. When the Major had asked about the fresh blood stain on Chief's shirt sleeve where he'd ripped off the bandage, the Warden spoke up first and explained that it was just an accident, a superficial cut. The mission had been a success, and that's what Garrison focused on. He'd covered for them.

When Richards finally let them go, the others headed for the mess hall and lunch. But Chief wasn't hungry. His arm throbbed and his head was starting to join in. He stopped by the infirmary but no one was there. After searching through a couple of drawers, he found the gauze and bandages, and he clumsily re-dressed the wound, using his free hand and his teeth to tie off the gauze. Then he ducked into the mansion's kitchen, filled an empty milk bottle with water, grabbed a couple of apples, and retreated to their quarters, the overstuffed chair, and his book. He snapped open his blade, sliced a slab off of one of the apples, and bit into it as he opened the book to the empty matchbook cover he'd used to mark his place.

The book was one Actor said he would like, and he did, when he had the quiet and solitude to immerse himself in the story. But with the mission and the briefing still crowding into his head, he was having a hard time concentrating. He managed to get through an entire page before the door opened. Goniff edged in, looked back to check the hall like somebody might be following him, then shut the door behind him. "Hey, Chiefy…" he smiled.

As Chief slowly and deliberately sliced off another slab of apple, he watched the little pickpocket shift uneasily from foot to foot. Chief used his knife as a tool of intimidation almost as much as he used it as a lethal weapon, but it bothered him that it still made Goniff nervous. He folded it and shoved it back into its sheath.

Finally Goniff swallowed hard and spoke up. "I got somethin' I owe ya…"

"Yeah, five quid," Chief drawled, wiping a dribble of apple juice from his chin with his shirt sleeve. Goniff and Casino had lost the bet about the Warden using explosives as a diversion.

"Well, that and the rest of it…". Goniff edged up to the chair and held out a wad of bills.

"What's that?"

"I figure that's your take. From the music box."

"You fenced it? I thought the Warden made you give it back."

"He did. But I always check stuff out first, ya know. A lot of old things have secret hidey-holes." He shrugged and smiled. "Somebody hid a ring in this one, in a little drawer underneath. Really pretty, too — prob'ly 24 karat gold, with a sapphire and little diamonds. And I know this bloke over in Hempstead… I figure half of it's yours. "

"For what? For nearly getting us both killed?"

"No." Goniff shook his head, his brows drawn together in a frown. "You saved me life. That Gerrie came outta nowhere, like a ghost, and I weren't payin' a bit of attention…"

Chief took the money and flipped the edges. There must be £1,000 folded up here. Goniff could just have easily kept it all for himself, or kept the ring for his mother. Sometimes the guy could really surprise him.

"Just don't tell the others," Goniff warned. "Our little secret, okay?" When Chief just continued to stare at him, he added, "We're alright then, ain't we?"

"Yeah, o' course." Chief shook his head and reached out to hand the money back. "Look, you don't owe me nothin'. I was the one who got careless."

Goniff scuffed the toe of his boot at a worn spot in the carpet. "Well, maybe we both did. Look, keep the money, mate. Buy yourself somethin' nice. A fancy new pig-sticker or somethin'."

Chief flipped through the bills again. The only thing he could think of that he really wanted was his freedom. After the war. He shoved the wad into his pants pocket. "Thanks."

Goniff looked satisfied with that. He nodded and backed off a step, then turned for the door.

"Goniff…" Chief called after him. When Goniff turned back, he said, "I ain't gonna let it happen again."

The smile that split the little limey's face was the same bright, guileless one that made all the kids love him. "Me neither, mate."


End file.
